Tristan's Redemption

by Blackburn, Candace

  “Sure, Julie. What’s up?”

  Julie politely nodded at a few of the participants who were leaving. “That’s what I wanted to find out from you. How are things going with you and Peanut?”

  Abby had nicknamed the baby Peanut. On her first ultrasound, the baby was roughly the size of a peanut and the nickname stuck. Abby patted her belly and smiled. “Peanut’s fine. Likes pineapple now, apparently.”

  “Good. Pineapple tastes much better going down than coming back up.”

  Abby cringed and shook her head. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Other than the dietary changes, how are things?”

  “The doc says my weight is good—apparently I’m right on the mark—but the latest ultrasound puts Peanut ahead of schedule. Doc’s going to watch the size closely because he isn’t ruling out a C-section at this point.”

  “Good. If Peanut is a big boy, Alabama’s football program is—”

  “Woah.” Abby held up her hand. “My son will go to Georgia Tech for football, thank you very much.”

  Julie smirked and bent to Abby’s belly. “Kid, we’ll handle your mama when it’s time.” Raising up, she took a deep breath. “Now, let’s talk about what’s going on with Abby.”

  “I’m having the nursery painted.”

  “That’s good. It’s also related to the baby. Just pretend Peanut is sitting in a pod outside your body for a few moments and tell me how you are doing.” Julie emphasized this with a light tap on Abby’s shoulder.

  Oh God. Abby should have realized, by the looks Julie gave her during the meeting, that she’d picked up on her mood. “I’m fine, Julie.”

  “Bullshit. And don’t give me that look—I can say that to you if I want to. I’ve been there, done that, got spit up all over the t-shirt.” Julie’s tone softened and she touched Abby on the arm. “It’s only been six months, Abby. You aren’t fine yet.”

  “No, I’m not. But I should be. I wasn’t the one crawling all over another man that afternoon.”

  “You’re carrying around a lot more than grief over losing your spouse, Abby. There’s everything else. The infidelity. Being left to raise the baby alone. Do you think it would help if you talk to a professional about this?”

  Abby frowned. “Doesn’t this count?”

  Julie tapped her chin in thought. “Yes and no. I’m here to facilitate a group meeting where people of similar circumstances can cope with loss. And I’m here to listen when individuals in the group need individual attention. But as your friend, Abby—and that is what I am—I can also raise concerns when I think you may need some extra help. Do you feel like you do?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s like I have a big question mark where all the love used to be. Why, when I would never have thought about looking at another man, would David not grant me the same courtesy? Why was I so easy to replace?”

  “I’m not excusing what he did, not one bit, but he didn’t replace his wife. He slept with another woman.”

  She gaped. “There’s a difference?”

  “Depends who you ask. For me, I would say no. Indiscretion, whether it’s physical, in the heart, or both, is still indiscretion. But others, perhaps someone without a uterus, would feel differently.”

  Abby frowned. “You think I should talk to a man?”

  “What I think isn’t part of the equation. I can only offer suggestions. If the question of why is plaguing you, and you can’t answer it, why not go to someone who, perhaps, can?”

  Abby looked around at all the empty chairs. Tristan hadn’t been there tonight, not that she would’ve felt comfortable asking him this sort of question anyway, and she didn’t want to share her shame with just anyone.

  Then she remembered her schedule for the next day and smiled.

  “Do you think it’s worth a shot, Abby?”

  “Yeah,” Abby admitted with a smile. “I do.”

  ~

  Ehron looked about as uncomfortable as Abby had ever seen a man look. He scrunched his nose and kept his attention on the border for the nursery. Anything, other than Abby’s face, seemed preferable at the moment.

  “Well?”

  “Mrs. Daniels—” His cheeks were red. Was he blushing?

  “Abby, please.”

  “Abby, then. I don’t know what to say.”

  “It’s fine, really. A friend advised me to get a guy’s opinion, and you’re the only guy I know who won’t be a regular part of my life.”

  “No one knows that your husband cheated on you?”

  Abby frowned and shook her head. “Other than my counselor in group sessions, you’re the first person I’ve ever told.”

  Ehron exhaled and shifted his weight to his other foot in a nervous gesture. Which said a lot. Someone with his presence didn’t seem like the type to get nervous. “Mrs. Da...Abby, if I may be forward...”

  “Please do.”

  “That big wedding portrait hanging over your fireplace?”

  “Yeah?”

  “No man looks at a woman like that unless he loves her. “

  Abby smiled and leaned against the wall, resting her hands on her belly. “David used to say he hoped that our children got my eyes, so when they met the person they loved, the other person could see forever, just like he could. I forgot about him saying that.”

  Ehron nodded then cocked his head to the side. “If I may ask, were you married when he said that?”

  “Yeah, we were. Why?”

  “Because honestly, he’d already sealed the deal. He didn’t need to seduce you or whisper sweet nothings to get you to marry him. What he said then had to be from his soul.”

  Abby was confused. “Soul...why not his heart?”

  “Some love goes with you beyond the grave, Mrs. Daniels.” He straightened and blew out a breath. “Okay, enough of that. Frankly, I’m a guy. I think I’ve waxed poetic enough about feelings for one day.”

  Abby laughed. “Good point. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

  She walked to the fireplace and looked up at the portrait. It was taken on her wedding day, nearly six years ago. David never strayed from her side and he always kept a supporting hand around her waist or resting at the small of her back.

  He teared up during their first dance and Abby treasured the feeling of being held by someone who loved her so much. As he held her that night after making love, David told Abby that she was the best thing that ever happened to him and he was so excited for their happily ever after. For the rest of their marriage, whenever he introduced her, he always beamed and said “and this is my wife, the best thing that has ever happened to me,” repeating the same words he’d whispered to her on their wedding night.

  So where had it all gone wrong? Every memory she had of her husband was tainted by the last. Even if David had lived, if that drunk woman hadn’t hit him, would Abby have been able to forgive his betrayal?

  She did not have an answer for that. For that matter, Abby didn’t think she ever would.

  Chapter Six

  Tristan pushed the chair away from his desk and blew out a weary breath. God, this was difficult. The past several weeks felt like a crash course in multiple personality disorder. He had memories of David’s and Tristan’s lives to sort through, and had to resist acting on certain mannerisms. David would make jokes with friends and co-workers, Tristan had no use for humor. David twirled his pens over his fingers when nervous. Tristan worked with his Bonsai trees to relieve pressure. Tristan ran three miles every night. David made love to his wife for his cardiovascular exercise.

  Professionally, they both had the same strong desire to succeed, but for different reasons. With Abby’s support, David felt like he could do anything he set his mind to, but if he were honest, he’d also have admitted that he wanted to prove to his father that he could be a damned good attorney on his own. Not living under his father’s shadow. Tristan left a place where he spent his adolescence resenting his parents for their hard work. If they were going to be working long hours and
not have much time for their children, then surely the family should be rich. But they weren’t and Tristan was full of hostility by the time he left for America to attend university.

  Rubbing his hands over his face, he groaned. “I have got a hell of a lot to make up for.”

  “Sir?” Alice, his secretary, stood just inside the doorway with a confused look on her face.

  She must have heard me.

  Tristan motioned her in and she brought a steaming cup of coffee over to his desk. He needed the coffee, having slept very little the night before. The woman anticipated his every move. She was quiet, efficient and he grimaced as he realized he knew very little about her.

  As she walked toward the door, Tristan cleared his throat. “Alice, do you mind waiting a moment?”

  She turned on her heel, surprise in her expression. “Not at all, Mr. Ramirez.”

  Tristan walked over to his desk to take a sip of his coffee. “Thank you for this.”

  Her eyes widened more. “My pleasure, Mr. Ramirez.”

  “Mmm.” He sat in his chair and gave her an appraising look. Her stance was rigid, as if she were poised to carry out his requests in the blink of an eye. Her shirt was perfectly tucked in. Her heels looked polished with military precision. Her jewelry was simple. Her black hair, with subtle strands of gray, was styled with utmost care.

  Her desk was neat, clutter-free and the only personal touches she allowed herself were a few small photographs of grandchildren. Tristan didn’t even know their names, and Alice had been in his service as long as his Atlanta office was open. Eight years now?

  “School’s over for the year, isn’t it?”

  “Um, I’m sure summer terms are starting, sir, but our continuing education department should handle that. Shall I call—”

  “No, the elementary schools. Aren’t they done for the year?”

  “Yes, sir, they are.”

  “Are your grandchildren currently playing sports?”

  Alice looked completely bewildered by this line of questioning. “Joseph plays baseball. Josie is in gymnastics, but that’s more year round.”

  “Yes, well, good. And do you get to their events very often?”

  Alice curtly shook her head. “No sir.”

  Because she was always doing something work-related. She’d even been to his house to make arrangements for private dinner parties. The woman had precious little time off.

  “When is the last time you took a vacation, Alice?”

  She wringed her fingers together and Tristan heard a sharp intake of breath. “Sir?”

  “Vacation. Time away. With the family.”

  “I took a week off when Josie was born.”

  Tristan stifled a curse. “How old is she now?”

  “She just turned six.”

  Tristan took a deep breath and opened his internet browser. “Alice, do you like the water?”

  He watched her neck work as she swallowed hard and her brows furrowed. He realized that she was probably questioning his sanity at this point. “I love it.”

  “Good.” Tristan dug for his wallet and pulled out his Black Amex. He motioned to the chair. “Have a seat. I’m going to need details.”

  Alice sat, not taking her eyes off Tristan. “Details about what, sir?”

  “Just some names and birth dates.”

  He looked up from his screen and saw Alice gaping, looking a little pale.

  “Mr. Ramirez, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. This is something I should have done long ago, Alice.”

  Fifteen minutes later and Alice could no longer hide the surprise. Tristan had the travel itinerary, which he retrieved from the printer himself, and everything arranged for Alice, her husband, son, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren to enjoy a two-week vacation on a private island they would reach by cruise liner.

  She didn’t even rise out of her seat as he walked up. Tristan must have shocked the hell out of the poor woman. “Sir, you didn’t have to do this.”

  “Actually, it’s a damned shame I didn’t do it sooner. You deserve this and so does your family for all the time I’ve kept you away from them.”

  Alice watched in amazement as Tristan placed the papers in her hands. “Go home. Spend the rest of the week shopping, packing, doing whatever. You leave on Sunday.”

  “But, sir, everyone will need to take time off work—”

  “Don’t your husband and son still work for me?” Tristan was grateful he remembered that as Alice nodded. “Good. What about the daughter-in-law?”

  “She’s a teacher and is off until August.”

  “Then do this. I’ll handle arranging time off for your husband and son. Go.”

  Alice looked up at Tristan with the biggest smile he’d ever seen on her face. “Thank you, Mr. Ramirez.”

  Her excitement warmed him and he felt happy. “Thank me by having a wonderful time. “

  Alice left and Tristan called his security team, instructing them to deliver traveler’s checks to Alice’s home and her son’s home. He wanted them to be able to buy anything they desired without having to worry about money. Tristan hung up the phone with a smile on his face.

  One act of repentance down, countless more to go.

  Chapter Seven

  Abby glanced up at the door to the meeting room and checked her clock again, bewildered by her fascination. She was a widow, and hadn’t been one for very long. Yet she waited for Tristan like a schoolgirl with a crush.

  Two trimesters of nausea and vomiting were waning and the table of snacks served as a temptation. Abby took a few grapes and cookies, grateful to be hungry. She looked over her shoulder at the door and frowned when she saw no one.

  “Looking for someone?” Tristan purred from behind her.

  “Tristan!” Abby spun around, a radiant smile on her face despite her hand clasped to her chest. “You scared me!”

  “Sorry.” Although the gleam in his eyes and his amused expression said something else.

  Abby picked up a few more grapes. “So, how have you been?”

  “Busy.” Tristan took two bottled waters from the table and followed Abby to her chair. “I’ve been swamped with meetings.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” She sat, turning so she would face him. “I noticed you weren’t here Tuesday.” Abby felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment. Did I just admit to looking for him?

  He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, and she noticed that he looked tired. “I was in New York, just flew back in Wednesday.”

  “Do you travel a lot?”

  “Actually, I’m playing catch up, connecting names with faces. Or, I should say, reconnecting.” Tristan smiled at Abby’s questioning glance. “I took a sabbatical from work and I’m re-familiarizing myself with everything.”

  “Is everything okay now? I mean, with work?”

  “It’s fine. Actually, I’d say that things are looking up.”

  “Oh. That’s good.” More people were coming in for the meeting and Abby lowered her voice, so she wouldn’t be overheard. “Feel free to tell me it’s none of my business, but people don’t usually take sabbaticals for vacationing purposes.”

  “Actually, it was more of a journey of...self-fulfillment.”

  She smiled, feeling relieved with his answer. “That sounds rather Zen.”

  Tristan’s eyes sparkled with laughter. “Zen. That’s one way of putting it. I was basically recovering. When you’re a workaholic, running on three, maybe four, hours’ sleep a night, your body bears the brunt.”

  “David,” she paused, feeling odd discussing him in the past tense with Tristan, “my husband, used to work a lot. Of course, he was working up to becoming partner in his firm, so eighty hour weeks were fairly common.”

  Tristan nodded, and his eyes looked haunted. “I’ve done my fair share of sixteen-hour days.”

  “But no more, right? I mean, you look very healthy, post-sabbatical.”

  “Clean bill of health. Ten hours of work, max
, and I run three miles every day. Six hours’ sleep a night.”

  “Not bad, especially for a reformed workaholic.” She glanced toward the front, Julie still wasn’t there. They had a few more minutes to talk. “What’s your mile time?”

  “Seven minutes, fifteen seconds.” He pulled his chair closer so that they touched, her knee resting against his thigh. “Are you a runner? I mean, pre-pregnancy?”

  Abby shrugged. “On a completely amateur basis. I wanted to see if I could do it. I mean, all these people talk about running being fun. I didn’t see the appeal. Then I started and found out I loved it.”

  He nodded his approval. “Good for you. What was your mile time?”

  Abby pointed to herself and smirked. “I got it down to eight minutes, forty-two seconds. But now, I waddle an utterly impressive sixteen-minute mile.”

  Tristan burst out laughing, and Abby joined in. Several of the group attendees stared in shock. She realized this must look odd to the others as Tristan was the quiet mysterious one and she often left the meetings in tears. They quickly sobered while people took their seats.

  He cleared his throat and looked at her. “I’d slow my running time, Abby,” he whispered, low and husky, “just so I could run by your side and watch you move.”

  Abby sucked in a ragged breath as Julie walked in and called the meeting to order with a greeting.

  Afterward, Abby got her keys out of her purse and noticed Tristan lingering beside her. She’d thought of nothing but his last comment the entire meeting.

  Tristan touched her arm. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tristan looked around the area as if checking for threats. Abby found his actions endearing. The parking lot was well-lit and she could clearly see St. Philips Cathedral, but she did not like going to her car alone.

  Tristan stopped at her door. He fidgeted and she worried that perhaps he regretted flirting with her earlier. He exhaled a deep breath and met her gaze. “Abby, have dinner with me. I know your husband hasn’t been gone very long, but I would love to see you before next week...outside of group.” Tristan looked down at his hands, and she realized this was a nervous gesture. “If it’s too soon, I apologize.”